


A Venetian boatman

by Hypatia_66



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Challenge Response, Community: section7mfu, Gen, Rowing, Venezia | Venice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-06-22 19:30:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15589116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hypatia_66/pseuds/Hypatia_66
Summary: LJ short Affair challenge. Prompts: lazy, boat, yellowAfter a successful mission using the help of Venetian gondoliers, Illya learns to row





	A Venetian boatman

The two agents emerged from Santa Lucia station into bright sunshine. It was a beautiful, peaceful scene. White steps led down to the vivid green waters of the Grand Canal where small motorboats competed for space with vaporetti, supply boats, funeral hearses, ambulances and the odd gondola. There was hardly anyone about.

“I thought there would be lots of tourists,” said Napoleon.

“Out of season. It will get busy towards Easter,” said Illya.

Looking at the sparkling waters of the Canal it was difficult to believe that less than two years before, the city had been even more badly flooded than Florence. But not so difficult to believe that its vulnerability made it a hostage, not just to fortune but to malignant forces.

<><><> 

The police chief had said mournfully, “The gondolieri generally know everything that’s going on – but they don’t like talking to us.” Which proved to be true on both counts. They had been a little more forthcoming to the UNCLE agents, however, whom they saw as harmless to their interests, and possibly more profitable.

The threat seemed serious – to blow up the recently restored flood walls and dams at Pellestrina and leave the city undefended against worst of the coming tides. Along with the threat, there was a demand for one hundred million lire, which sounded excessive to Napoleon and he was scarcely reassured when reminded that the exchange rate was over 600 lire to the dollar.

Illya’s command of the language stood the test of the Venetian dialect – just. The Venetian boatmen, once they realised there was likely to be payment for their services, were amiable, voluble, and even moderately helpful. From what they said, the whole thing looked, sounded and smelled like Thrush. Illya enlisted the aid of a gondolier called Zanni and as a result, it hadn’t been too difficult to find and stop the miscreants. Zanni and his fellow boatmen knew everyone, knew every corner of all the islands, and were far better equipped than the police to spot and track strangers behaving suspiciously around the defences of the city. They even started a rota of casual patrols, something the police hadn’t the resources to do, and were the more effective because they weren’t police.

Illya and Napoleon joined their patrols. Illya, indeed, became quite friendly with the boatmen and it was clear they had a lot in common. They laughed at his tendency to seasickness but were impressed by how quickly he picked up their dialect. Napoleon understood less than one word in ten and almost sulked. He came into his own, however, when they sighted the enemy at the Porto di Malamocco actually attempting to lay mines on the shorter of the two harbour walls that projected into the sea and provided a buffer against the tides. The fire fight was effective. None of the boatmen was hurt – they flung themselves down on the deck as soon as the UNCLE agents drew their guns and only stood up again when it was over. Illya found himself having to fire and steer at the same time and cursed them unreasonably, but fluently, for being yellow.

Afterwards, to appease him, Zanni promised to teach him how to row a gondola.

<><><> 

Illya stood in what looked like quite a precarious position on the stern end of the gondola, gripping the oar just as he had been instructed. It wasn’t much harder than punting to get the boat moving and, knowing to use an oar as a rudder, he knew how to head in the right direction and avoid hitting anything. Napoleon lay back and sighed luxuriously. This was the life. All that was missing was someone female to share it with.

It was getting late, time to take the gondola back to its rightful owner and pay him the monstrous sum he had demanded for having it at all. The gondolier’s licence might have been at stake if they hadn’t also made expensive peace with the authorities.

Illya, stepped off the boat flexing his shoulders. The trick to rowing and steering with a single, very heavy oar in that extraordinary rowlock was far from easy and he could really feel it. “If there’s any horse liniment in the first aid kit, I’ll need you to apply it tonight,” he said. Napoleon nodded and sighed again. If only Illya had been female...

Back at the landing stage, Illya stripped off the striped tunic and straw hat, dropped them into the gondola, and returned it to Zanni who was waiting for both boat and money. Napoleon handed over the cash while Illya reluctantly resumed his shirt, pushing the tie into his pocket. He was far too hot to wear that. “I need a shower,” he said.

“You certainly do.”

“After you’ve massaged my shoulders with whatever’s in the kit.”

“No, before, please. I don’t think I want to touch a sweaty body.”

“That’s not what _I’ve_ heard,” Illya murmured.

<><><> 

Clean and dry after a shower, Illya lay face-down under Napoleon’s ministrations. Grunts of pain gradually turned to purring. The gondola-knotted muscles smoothed out and Napoleon sat back, wiping the oil off his hands.

“Better?” he said.

There was no answer. Illya’s face was buried in the pillow; his purring had changed to a gentle snore. Napoleon gave him ten minutes before poking him in the back and saying, “Time to eat, lazy,” which earned him a growl. The word Eat was always an effective wake-up call, but there might be retribution for Lazy. He'd probably have to pay for dinner.

<><><><>

**Author's Note:**

> Until the early 70s, out-of-season Venice was often virtually empty and there was a healthy balance between Venetians and tourists. With the advent of mass tourism and now the cruise liners, much of the native population has moved out and it is now a very crowded and sinking museum.
> 
> In Venetian dialect, Zanni is the same as Giovanni. Zanni is also a character in the Commedia del’arte, from which the word zany derives.


End file.
